


Gotta Love Mistletoe

by ronans



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: AU, Christmas, Fluff, M/M, Neighbors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-24
Updated: 2014-12-24
Packaged: 2018-03-03 09:04:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2845502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ronans/pseuds/ronans
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You know that one house with the obnoxiously amazing Christmas lights and decorations? Well, yeah, try imagining it downsized enough to fit on an apartment door because that appears to be the guy across the hall’s approach.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gotta Love Mistletoe

**Author's Note:**

> Merry Christmas!

In Mickey’s opinion, November 1st is _not_ an appropriate time to put up Christmas decorations. Especially in his neighbour’s case where they’re instantly replacing a metric fuck ton of Halloween decorations.

He doesn’t know how the guy does it; Mickey’s pretty sure he even put up a banner for Bad Poetry Day. He hadn’t even known that fucking _existed_.

Sure, Mickey’s walked past countless houses in his time that are completely coated in lights and Rudolph’s shit, but he’s never seen more than a wreath hanging up on an apartment door in his block, now he’s living opposite the fucking anti-Scrooge of the century.

And it’s not even as if he’s stopped at the decorations, oh no. _Every. Fucking. Time_ the bastard leaves or enters his apartment, some sort of awful music is triggered. _‘Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way_.’ Mickey’s not kidding. Every goddamn time. And the asshole goes out for fucking morning jogs, and sound travels pretty fucking far in his apartment block. Mickey’s _this_ close to going all Jack Nicholson on the dude’s door just so he can get in and rip the 8-bit spewing electronic out of the wall.

Mickey sees him occasionally, and this whole intense frustration really isn’t helped by the fact that the guy – Ian, as he’d been so eager to tell him when they’d passed in the hallway – is insanely hot, totally his type in the looks department. Ian always manages to start up petty conversation whenever they run into each other coming to or from their apartments.

The sad thing is is that he only knows Christmas is near because of the decorations reminding him every morning. It’s not like _he’s_ got any reason to celebrate, he’s been pretty much on his own for over a year now.

As the time’s gone by, he’s almost grown used to practically tripping over tinsel and fairy lights every day. He still sighs as he exits the elevator, though, and hears the echo of that evil Christmas song floating down the hall like he’s in some festive horror film. Except it’s his life. He’s really got to move towards the music and deal with his stupid, attractive, irritating neighbour. Ian starts to beam as he spots him hesitantly walking towards his apartment. _Oh great_. Mickey really doesn’t understand why he always looks so thrilled to see him; he’s always grumpy, like, he never switches his deadpan expression off.

‘Mickey! Hey. Only a week until Christmas.’

Mickey rolls his eyes and digs around in his pocket for his apartment keys, sincerely regretting not getting them out in the elevator. ‘Halle-freakin’-lujah,’ he grumbles, wrinkling his brow. ‘Why the fuck’re you stood outside? Can you close the goddamn door at least?’

Ian complies, but then starts humming a tune under his breath, and Mickey’s cursing himself because _of course_ Ian would start singing Panic! At The Disco in response to that. ‘I was just getting in, actually.’

‘And you’re still out here because…?’ Mickey sighs, shouldering his door open but pausing to wait for Ian’s answer.

Ian smiles and waves at him before disappearing inside his own apartment, calling ‘just wanted to say hi,’ over his shoulder. Mickey blinks and stays in his doorway for a few moments, slightly dazed.

*

‘Three days ‘til Christmas!’

Mickey practically jumps a foot in the air at the sound of Ian’s voice. He’s so fucking tired he hadn’t even noticed the music either. When Mickey looks over at the other man, he spots the mistletoe dangling above Ian’s head in his doorway. Ian lifts an eyebrow, challenging Mickey to do something about it. Mickey shakes his head to clear his thoughts and shoves his keys in his pocket, slamming his front door shut.

‘Why are you always so fuckin’ happy in the mornings? Some of us aren’t used to waking up at the ass crack of dawn.’

Ian sighs and then crosses his arms, looking Mickey over. Jesus, that’s not making him feel any easier with the situation. ‘I like mornings. And it’s nearly Christmas, how come you’re not pumped?’

Mickey rolls his eyes and starts walking down the hall, massaging his temples. ‘Christmas ain’t that great.’

‘I’m scared you’re gonna be a Grinch and rip all my decorations off my door.’

‘Thought about it once or twice,’ Mickey mutters. ‘I gotta go.’

‘Bye, Mick! Have a great day.’ The way he says _Mick_ does not go past him and oh Christ Mickey’s gotta leave because Ian’s looking at him in _that way_ again. But he still manages to keep up this puppy-like grin. It’s the most incessant happiness Mickey’s ever come into contact with and it’s seriously wearing him down.

*

‘Merry Christmas, Mickey,’ Ian says warmly as soon as Mickey leaves his apartment. Despite himself, Mickey smiles and leans against the wall opposite Ian.

‘Yeah… You too… Did you wait here for me to come out of my apartment?’ he asks accusatorily but Ian can tell he doesn’t care. He’s actually kind of glad for this.

‘Maybe…’ Ian replies with a grin.

‘Don’t you have a fuckin’ family to spend today with or something?’ Possibly a touchy topic to bring up so brazenly, but Ian knows Mickey enough to anticipate unsubtlety with his words.

Ian shrugs. ‘Not in the same state. I’m seeing them for New Year. What about you?’

‘…Same, I guess,’ Mickey answers vaguely, picking at his woollen winter sweater. As he avoids Ian’s gaze, his eyes drift to the top of Ian’s apartment doorway. ‘Oh don’t fucking tell me you left that mistletoe up,’ Mickey groans, rubbing at his eyes with his fingers. When he looks at Ian again, the bastard’s grinning and he clearly knows what the outcome of this is gonna be.

‘Dunno, Mick, maybe I did… Maybe I was waiting for someone to ask about it.’

‘Oh Jesus Christ.’

Ian rolls his eyes and then makes a hurried gesture. ‘Yeah, yeah, happy birthday Jesus and all that, you wanna kiss me now?’

Mickey lifts his eyebrows and can’t help glancing down either side of the hallway. ‘Fucking fine.’

Even the guy’s mouth tastes like apple and cinnamon.


End file.
